The Caretaker
by CelticQueen09
Summary: College seems to change people, and little did Eric Cartman know how his Jewish roommate would change drastically during their college years, nor did he know of all the unresolved issues Kyle has yet to take care of.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone! I've had this idea in my mind for a while based on the play "The Caretaker" by Harold Pinter. Of course a good bit of this is based off my personal life too (this chapter doesn't have a lot of detail but if I continue it will). Told in Cartman's POV. Anyways, please enjoy!  
**

"What the FUCK, Kahl?!"

"Please, Cartman. Just do this one thing for me and I PROMISE I will pay you back as SOON as I get-"

"$150?! What the FUCK?"

I yelled again into the receiver. I heard a sigh on the other end.

"Like I said, I can pay you back as soon as tomorrow!"

"Like this is REALLY what I wanted to do on my Friday, Kahl!" I yelled, still in shock at the scenario.

"Why should I TRUST a JEW to pay me back money?" I continued to rant. "And why can't you filthy little Jews just stay out of trouble?! I TOLD you that you were drinking too much last night, but did your drunk, Jew-ass listen? NO!"

"And you were right, Cartman. And I'm really sorry," Kyle said. He paused. "But this was just one mistake. I promise I'll be more careful in the future with my drinking."

I was still in shock that the Jew actually got _arrested._ Sure, Kyle's a dirty Jew that has always been up to no good, but he used to be a _sneaky_ dirty Jew. I guess he fucked up so bad that the cops couldn't help but notice him turning left on a red light last night. Still, all of this was not like the Kyle I grew up with. I should've known better than to move in with the Jew when we first got to college, then I wouldn't be dealing with all this unnecessary bullshit.

After the ginger didn't hear anything from me, he continued to plead pathetically :

"Please, Cartman. You're all I have right now. My parents would kill me and never talk to me again if I ask them to bail me out. Please…."

I sighed. "If Butters agrees to split it with me on the bail, then I GUESS I can try and get over there, when I can….." I mumbled. Of course, this basically meant that I was going to do it, as it's just as easy to trick Butters into doing anything as it is to steal candy from a baby.

"Thank you, Cartman." I heard Kyle say. I swear, he sounded cold-sober, but I know that wasn't the case several hours ago.

"This really means a lot to me."

**SIX MONTHS EARLIER**

"Eric, may I have a word with you?" Dr. DaMejo asked me on the side after he dismissed the class.

"Yes, Dr. Demejo?"

"Eric, you're usually very punctual with sending in your excel homework to me."

My mind started racing. Is he insinuating I'm not?

"Uh, thank you?" I said, in more of a questioning tone, since I'm trying to figure out what my Inferential Statistics professor is alluding to.

"But you were supposed to turn in the last one Monday, Eric."

And it's Wednesday. _Fuck._

"I do apologize, Dr. DeMejo." I respond, sounding as sincere as I possibly can. "Things have gotten a little… How shall I say…. Disorganized, lately. Although I know that is not an excuse."

Dr. D nodded, his beady eyes showing sympathy through his thick glasses.

"I understand, Eric." He said. "And I believe you. Because, like I said, you always turn in your excel projects in on time, sometimes ahead of the deadline." He paused, starting to change his tone. "But you know your lack of organization will only hurt you later on, if you want to be an actuary."

"I know, Dr. DeMejo." I replied. "And that is something I am aware of and am working on." I really did mean what I said this time.

"So will this afternoon be okay to turn in the homework?" I asked, starting to walk backwards to the exit.

"That's fine Eric."

As I'm walking back to the dorm that sunny day, I get a text from Kenny.

**K: Hey**

**C: Sup poor boy?**

**K: Can you do me a favor?**

Ohhh boy, here we go. Kenny has been getting on my nerves lately- more than usual.

Two years ago me, Kenny, Stan and Kyle all moved into an apartment dorm suite on campus at South Park University. For the most part, things were okay, I mean I guess.

Kyle stowed away in his room and studied like a nerd and occasionally hung out with Stan. Stan became a frat boy but spent more time with that bitch Wendy than he did with his gay fraternity. And Kenny just partied and rebelled, making sure to keep plenty of weed and booze in his room. Most of the time he passed his classes, usually with C's. When I asked him why he picked English for his major, my white trash roommate responded, "Because, man. English is easy as fuck!"

Lazy piece of shit.

Stan chose business and Kyle chose international business, so the two fags shared some classes together. Towards Stan's last semester on campus, though, he wanted to study less and less with Kyle. Kyle thought that was because his faggy boyfriend was breaking up with him, and in a way he did. He purposed to Wendy right at the end of the semester.

Wanting to move in with his new fiancé, Stan moved out of the dorms and into an apartment off campus with the femi-Nazi Wendy. It was no surprise that Butters was eager to take Stan's room, and so he just moved in two months ago. How is living with Butters? It has it's fucking annoying moments, but it's okay, I guess. At least, he never wakes me up in the middle of the night with his drunken antics, unlike SOME of my roommates….

**K: Can you wake up Kyle when you get back?**

I read Kenny's text a couple of times. While walking, I texted back:

**C: What am I, his fucking myum?**

I was getting real tired of this shit. Do this for Kyle, do that for Kyle. It wasn't like this at all when Stan was here, but after he moved out the Jew spent more and more time with Kenny, going out and partying with him and opening up more socially. Normally I don't give a flying fuck, but when it starts interfering with MY life- like waking me up or asking me to act like someone's fucking myum- THEN we have a problem.

**K: Kyle has a test at 2:00. Think he forgot to set his alarm clock.**

I looked at the clock in my cell phone. 12:34. Jesus fucking Christ.

**C: Why the fuck did you all go out last night if he had a fucking test the next day?!**

**K: I was going out anyways, he decided to come along.**

Then after a second, he sent another text:

**K: He didn't tell me he had a test until before he passed out last night. LOL**

LOL….. Yeah, real fucking funny, poor boy. I guess this is what I get for living with fucking ass-hats.

Jesus fucking Christ.

**What do you think? If I continue this story, it's going to get VERY dark and morbid, as I always put in certain aspects of my life into my work lol. Please lmk what you thought!**


	2. Chapter 2

"WAKE THE FUCK UP KAHL!" I yelled, pummeling his door with my fist.

I waited a second. Heard nothing.

"I said, 'WAKE UP YOU FUCK-UP!'"

Finally, I heard some movement and I'm pretty sure I could make out a grumbled , "Fuck off."

"No, fuck YOU, Kahl!" I said. As I started to head to my room, I turned my head over my shoulder and added, "You're fucking lucky poor-boy texted me and told me that your alcoholic-ass had a test today…. Faggot."

As I unlocked my room, I quickly grabbed my calculator, my laptop, and my folder for my inferential stats class and decided to work on this excel project in the main area, since it's bigger than my room. As I was setting everything up and waiting for my laptop to come on, the Jew finally came out of his room. Before heading for the kitchen, he stopped by the doorway and looked at me. His bloodshot eyes were barely open and his Jew-fro was a huge, matted mess. But the funniest part about his appearance was that the Jew was the fact that he was wearing the exact same clothes he wore when he went out last night- he hadn't bothered to change at all!

"I like your new style of pajamas," I said with a straight face.

Kyle just shot me the bird as he turned to the kitchen to get some breakfast. He poured himself some cereal as well as orange juice. He slowly grabbed his bowl and glass and maneuvered to the bar area and struggled to get up on the stool, his back facing me.

"You know you have less than an hour to be ready to take your _test_, right Kahl?" I asked, still working on my project and not bothering to move my eyes from the screen.

"Mmmm-hmmmm," He sighed. I could hear him slowly lifting his spoon, attempting to eat.

I took the case off my calculator. "What all did you and Kinneh have last night?"

"Christ, I don't know, Cartman…." He managed to say sourly after swallowing his first bite of cereal.

"Why do you care anyways, fatass?"

"Just asking, Kahl." I said as I turned to my notes from class in my folder, looking for the exact setting that I'll be needing to use in my calculator to complete the data.

"I saw you and Kinneh do at least 3 or 4 shots before you two fags left."

Still lazily holding the spoon in his right hand, the redhead slowly turned his head around and asked,

"Are you fucking judging me, Cartman?"

I took a second to glance up from my homework. God, he looked like shit.

"Not at all, my fair Kahl." I responded sweetly. "I'm just wondering how you can pre-game that hard and still have room for more liquor at the actual party."

He slowly turned back around, shrugging. "It doesn't matter."

I mumbled an "oh well" sound as I started plugging away at the data before I put my answers into the excel spreadsheet. Stats is a lot easier than people make it out to be. All it is it reading the problem right and then memorizing how to enter the data into your calculator. It's actually kinda fun, but most people are too dumb to see it that way.

After I worked the first column, I realized that it must have been a good 15 or 20 minutes that I have been here and that Kyle had been eating breakfast. He was being so quiet (for once in his life) that I forgot he was there.

"Shouldn't you be leaving soon, Jew?"

When I didn't hear an answer at first, I looked over to him to see his body make a visible throbbing movement. As he tried to turn his head and open his mouth to say something, vomit began pouring out of his mouth. As he spewed a huge amount he clung to the bar stool, hoping not to fall as I rushed up and grabbed his shoulders behind him, helping him stay up.

"Fuck, Kahl!" I said, hoping he was done. He was quiet for a second but then I felt his body arch forward again with even more vomit. I ran and got the large kitchen trashcan. With what little he had left, he threw his head and in there and spit out the last few bits.

"You're supposed to throw up in the bathroom, Jew!" I yelled. I was already thinking about who was going to have to clean up this disgusting mess.

"I'm sorry," He said weakly, his voice extremely raspy from the stomach acid. He looked at me with a sincere and apologetic look, wiping his teary, bloodshot eyes with the back of his hands. Just in that short moment, I could see his flushed cheeks from throwing up. I could see the dark circles under his eyes. And most importantly, I could see something else in his eyes too, but I don't really know how to describe it. He looked so frail and fragile. So…. Pathetic.

"Well, just so you know, I'm not cleaning this up." I announced. Hey, I'm not showing the sorry Jew any sympathy. I've done enough as it is.

"But, the test-"

"Go take the goddamn test!" I said. "You said this professor's a bitch about make-ups, right?"

"Y-yes…."

I rolled my eyes. "You're probably gonna fucking fail it either way, so just take it and get it over with."

Still gripping the bar counter, Kyle looked at his mess on the carpet.

"But, my mess…."

"Look Jew," I said, my tone getting irritated. "Just go take the test. You can clean it up when you get back."

His facial expression looked confused but he responded, "Okay. Thanks, Cartman. S-Sorry again."

I rolled my eyes as he grabbed his keys and backpack and head out.

What a royal fuck-up.

Now, I have to turn this project in to Dr. DeMejo but the problem is the apartment smells like rancid puke. Guess I'll have to find a spot on campus to finish this.

Fucking Jew!

I sat down for a second wondering where I should go, but then my thoughts were interrupted by yet another annoying-ass roommate.

"Hi Eric!" Butters greeted me cheerfully, keys in one hand and the other holding on to the strap of his backpack.

"Whatcha doing there, statistics?"

But before I got the chance to answer, Butters changed the subject himself.

"Hey, uhh… W-what smells?"

"Vomit, Butters. Kyle is very sick," I answered calmly.

"Kyle is sick? Oh no!" He responded.

I nodded solemnly. "Yes, and if I recollect correctly, I think he asked me to ask YOU to clean it up," I said, then I added "Since he's taking a test and everything right now."

"Oh no, he's taking a test too?" Butters asked, his right hand covering his heart.

"Poor little buddy… Of course I'll help clean up after Kyle!"

A part of me chuckled on the inside. Not that I would ever say it, but you know, Butters just MIGHT be my favorite roommate. He's much easier to live with than that drunk piece of shit Jew, anyways.

**As always, PLEASE LMK what you think! Thank you!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello everyone! First of all, a HUGE thanks to you for reviewing! I would not continue this story without all the support and love. This chapter is kinda short and not as entertaining as the first two, but I am going somewhere with this, I promise. As always, please review and lmk your thoughts!**

God, I fucking hate working problems in class. And in groups.

And why in Christ's name should we be in groups for doing T-Distributions anyways?

I look at my cell phone. 4:06. Does this mean I've got 39 minutes left of working with these dip-shits?

"Umm, does anyone have the notes from last week?" This dumb twat Ashley asks, sitting across from me.

I rolled my eyes at this stupid bitch. Here was one of the very few girls in the class, and she was as fake and superficial as could be. Her high-lighted hair was flat-ironed straight, she often wore white shorts along with flat sandals, and all her nails were done. She texted the whole time in class and I have no fucking idea how she even passed the pre-reqs for this class.

Tim, a nerdy Indian guy, shyly gave her his notes.

"Here you go," He said quietly and awkwardly, as if he had never seen a girl before in his pathetic and virginal life.

Of course, I wanted to be like "WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU HELPING HER OUT?", but the last time I did that in a class during a group project I was asked to leave for the day.

I think it would be better if I just half-ass this dumb activity and simply _act_ like I'm part of the team.

So I went to South Park Univeristy's main website to pull up the professor's personal site, as well as I opened up excel. I would feign interest and pretend to listen their inferior chatter, then check my e-mail. I would act like I was helping Ashley, then go to Texts From Last Night. I would nod my head seriously while Zach- the frat boy who thought he was hot shit- explained what worked for him and why we _should_ plot our graphs the same way, then got on Facebook.

I hadn't been on in a few days, so I scrolled the News Feed. Basically, there was a bunch of shit that I didn't care about. Jimmy Valmer took a picture of the new French recipe he cooked for himself last night, My myum posted something embarrassing on my wall about how she missed me, bullshit bullshit bullshit…..

Then I saw something that was somewhat important:

**Stan Marsh is engaged to Wendy Testaburger**

I saw that this "event" was actually dated for last night, but that they didn't decide to announce it on the Wonderful World of Facebook until today.

"Huh. So the hippie wants to be pussy-whipped for life." I mused.

"Are you even listening, bra?" Zach asked, an irritated expression on his face.

I quickly minimized FB and pulled back up the excel.

"Oh yes of course, sir." I said. "Now please, tell me again how you think we ALL should plot our T-distribution graphs, because you're smarter than the professor?"

The frat-boy shook his head and pulled his calculator closer to him, continuing to work on the problem with the rest of the group. Pretty sure he mumbled "asshole" under his breath.

I smiled, letting my mind get used to the idea of Stan as a married man.

The thought itself made me laugh.

**THE NEXT DAY**

"Hi Eric!" Butters energetically greeted me in the kitchen.

"Your first class isn't until 12:30, right Eric?" He asked, looking at the clock on the stove. It read 11:30.

"That's right," I said stretching. "It's Thursday, right Butters?"

"Right Eric!" He responded with a smile as he grabbed a spatula to flip the pancakes he was making. I couldn't help but notice the minty-green apron he was wearing while making breakfast. I live with such a fag.

"Riiight…" I mumbled, too tired to make a homophobic joke. I stayed up until 2:00 last night working on Calc 3 problems. It was a bitch.

As I turned to go back in my room, Butters said, "Oh Eric?" He asked.

"Yes Butters?"

"You know that Stan is coming over tonight, right?"

The FUCK?

"No Butters," I said flatly. "I did not know that."

"He didn't text you too?"

I shook my head. "Nope." But then again, I hadn't turn on my cellphone yet either.

"W-well, you see," Butters started to explained, setting the spatula on the counter next to the stove.

"Stan said he wants to spend some time with us fellas, l-like a 'Man's Night Out' or something." He paused awkwardly. "I think he wants to celebrate the occasion."

"If that's what the hippie wants," I shrugged. "In this apartment, that's a dumb fucking idea, but….."

"What was that Eric?"

"Nothing Butters."

I retreated back in my room and took a quick shower, followed by getting dressed. I finally turned on my cell phone and then I saw the mass text that Butters was talking about. I re-read it and saw that Butters had actually quoted some of Stan's wording.

'Celebrate the occasion', huh Stan? I thought to myself.

A party nowadays is completely different from a party during our freshmen year. Stan just doesn't get it. He has no fucking idea what he's getting himself into. But then again, he's always been that way. Dumb and fucking oblivious to life.

I walked in the kitchen to grab a sandwich from the fridge that I made the night before. Butters already took his breakfast and was back in his room. I heard someone coming in the front.

"'Sup Jew?"

"Not much, fatass." The soulless daywalker responded. Today he actually seemed coherent, as in neither drunk or hungover. He tossed his backpack by the couch as he walked over to where I was, standing next to the fridge.

At first I thought he was going to get in my face, but instead he opened the fridge and got out a beer.

Typical.

"So, how'd that test go that you fail a few days ago?" I asked curiously.

Grabbing a beer bottle opener and then heading back to the couch, the Jew said, "Don't know. Don't have the results yet."

"Well, I'm sure you blew it," I said in a reassuring tone. The Jew rolled his eyes. He got out his cell phone, as if not wanting to talk about that shit-show from a few days ago.

"Speaking of blowing it," I added as I walked up to the Lazy-Boy couch, my left hand on my backpack and the right one on the back of the chair.

"You DO know your boyfriend is coming over tonight, right?"

The Jew didn't glance up from his phone. He sort-of mumbled some sort of sound for acknowledgement, completely not phased. Honestly, I was a bit surprised to see him so apathetic when talking about his Super Best Friend. It was almost like he didn't want to talk about it at all.

But then again, Kyle seems to have less and less life in him as each day goes by.

After he didn't respond- much less LOOK up at me from his phone- I was ready to leave.

"Okay Kahl, I'm off to make anti-Semitic slurs then." I said as I closed the door before me.

I thought the stupid hippie as I was walking to class. I'm going to tell Stan what a bitch he is.

I'm also going to tell him that we should postpone his little "celebration".


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey hey! Things are going to start getting bit darker starting this chapter. As always, please LMK how you liked it by continuing to review! **

"I knew it was time because I had been waiting _forever_ to purpose to her, Butters." Stan replied, his eyes glowing with excitement.

"Basically, I was just waiting until I had saved up enough money to buy the ring that she wanted."

"You hear that, Jew?" I asked, placing my legs in front of me and placing them on top of the coffee table.

"That means you'll have to actually spend money someday if you don't want to be alone."

"Fuck off, Fatass." The ginger responded apathetically, checking his phone here and there for texts.

Kyle wasn't the only person who wasn't showing much interest in the conversation. Kenny, Stan and Kyle were all sitting on the couch while me and Butters were sitting in the two chairs adjacent to the couch. Stan came in like a blazing, energetic star of gayness, unable to contain his excitement. I couldn't care less, Kenny was indifferent, and Kyle seemed like he didn't want to be around his (now ex) boyfriend. Butters was the only person who was interested in Stan's incessant girl talk.

"Where did you purpose to Wendy, Stan?" Butters asked enthusiastically.

"Bennigans," He responded.

"Hahaha WHAT?!" Kenny laughed. "Why didn't you save more money and just take her to Taco Bell?"

Stan rolled his eyes. "Look, I know it may _seem_ cheap," He prefaced whatever he was going to say. Then I added;

"Yeah man are you Jewish now?"

"- But Bennigans holds a lot of significance for Wendy and me," He continued, ignoring my question.

"Well what's that Stan?" Butters was chomping at the bits.

"Bennigans was were I took Wendy out on our first date EVER," He explained. "I mean, back when we were 8."

"Awwwwwwwwwww!" Butters mused wistfully. Gross.

Stan smiled, shamelessly showing his pride.

"I remember saving up my allowances for 3 months straight to make sure that I had enough money to pay for both of us," He reminisced.

"Aww, Stan! You're sooooooo romantic!" I said in my sweetest, girly tone ever. The hippie rolled his eyes.

"Anyways, that's why I'm here. I was hoping we could all go out tonight to celebrate,"

Kyle's bored gaze went from his phone to Stan. The idea of "going out" peaked his interest

"Sure, man." Kenny said. "Where to?"

"It doesn't matter," Stan replied. "Bobbie's?" Bobbie's used to be a pretty popular bar, it's clientele mainly SPU students.

"Bobbie's shut down last year," Kyle responded. "They weren't too great with checking people's Ids."

Well, the Jew would know.

The hippie shrugged. "Like I said guys, it doesn't matter. Where would you all like to go?"

Kenny's face lit up with an idea. "How about Eleven Bar?"

"NO FUCKING WAY!" I spat. Eleven Bar was a local bar/ "lounge" that turned into a club quite often. Maybe I would like it better if everyone there- and I DO mean EVERYone- weren't always getting shit-faced to the extreme…. Especially my obnoxious ginger roommate.

"That place is a SHITHOLE!" I said.

"Aww geez," Butters said. "Why do you say that, Eric? I had a good time the last time I went with Kenny and Kyle!"

"It just IS, Butters!" Then I added, "Plus, there's too many black people!"

Butters simply smiled. "Colored people don't really bother me. And besides, I enjoyed the dancing!"

"And Clyde works there!" Kenny added. Yes, while Clyde Donovan tried academia, he insisted that he was making more money doing what he was doing now than he ever would with a college degree; waiting on tables during the day and bartending at night. He was actually a decent bartender, probably due to the fact that he's not as much as an asshole now as he was growing up. Kenny and Kyle speak highly of the prick, anyways.

And with just the mention of his name, Kyle's eyes lit up with excitement.

"He will _totally_ hook us up, Stan! He gave me like a 75% discount last time!"

I'm sure that's because the Jew drank so much that Clyde still made some good money off of him.

Stan nodded. "Sure, Eleven Bar it is, then."

"Nooooooooo!" I whined. "Anywhere but there!"

Kyle's eyes narrowed at me. "I think this is Stan's decision, Cartman." His voice was flat; in a tone which meant he meant business.

"We're going to Eleven Bar."

**LATER THAT NIGHT**

As soon as we walked into the shitty little bar, my nose was overwhelmed by the smell of cigarettes, hookah, alcohol and cheap cologne. The was some ghetto Chris Brown song blasting, and while there was a DJ, the night was too early for anyone to get up and dance yet.

While in between taking orders from customers, Clyde saw spotted us, yelled hello, and motioned for us to come sit at the bar, which we did.

"What can I do for you?" He smiled. His medium-brown hair was spiked and it was amusing how charming he could be, with his new his gauges and his sleeve tattoos.

Kyle beamed at the sight of Clyde. Kinda funny, seeing that he is much more excited to see Clyde than the way he acted when Stan was at the front door earlier tonight.

"Vodka Redbull," The redhead responded.

"Irish Car bomb," Kenny requested.

"Good to see you two deciding to take it easy tonight," I observed. They ignored me, again.

"Just a Blue Moon for me," Stan responded.

"Yeah, same here." I said. I mean, who the fuck doesn't like Blue Moon?

Clyde nodded at each of us, taking it in. Then he looked at Butters.

"Ohh! U-uuum," He stumbled, being caught off guard. "Well j-just a coca-cola for me, thanks."

"That's _it_, Butters?" The redhead asked. "Tonight's a night to celebrate!"

"M-maybe later, Kyle." He said. "Alcohol makes me…. Well, it makes me woozy…." He rubbed his knuckles together.

"That's the whole point_, man!_" Kenny responded. Kenny and Kyle laughed as Clyde brought us our drinks. As he started to turn away, Poor Boy got his attention yet again.

"Oh and, I'd like to add on a jager bomb too,"

Clyde shrugged and got on it.

Kyle seemed to be gurgling his drink, "Fuck you, man!" He said with a smile on his face.

Kenny laughed playfully. "What?"

"You know you can't do a shot and not have me do one with you."

Kenny looked at Kyle, smiling.

"Clyde?" The blonde said.

"Yep?"

"Make that TWO jager bombs,"

"Okay."

Butters seemed nervous and Stan looked apprehensive but was trying to give the benefit of the doubt.

And so the three of us watched ss Poor Boy and the Jew downed several shots back-to-back. At some point during the night, Kyle bought Butters a Sex on the Beach, to which he actually enjoyed. As the night went on and the dumb bar-goers got drunker, there seemed to be more and more people on the dance floor. Butters and Kenny were the first two out. Kyle went for a minute but came back for another drink. I watched the whole debauchery in shame. I asked Clyde for the check and paid it. Since we all carpooled, I was about ready to take a taxi back, but then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, you!"

I turned around to find it was Kyle. His face was flushed and he had his dumb drunken smile on.

Ohhhh booooy. Here we go.

"Kahl, I'm leaving." I announced, standing up to leave the bar

"Nooooooo but whyyyyyyyy!?" He whined grabbing both of my arms.

" Because I want to, Jew." I shook my arms free of him. "And don't fucking touch me! You're drunk!"

Then, something flashed in his eyes, almost a combination of anger and pain.

"You _always_ pull this shit," He said, his eyes blazing.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Jew?"

"You _always_ go out of your way to ruin a good time!" He yelled, perhaps too loud, despite the blaring rap music.

"Tonight was supposed to be about Stan, not you Fatass!" He was getting uncomfortably close to my face. God I wanted to smash his stupid, drunk face. Then I realized that a good bit of the people in that God-Forsaken bar/lounge/shithole were watching us, since it probably did look like I was going to hit him. And God did I want to.

"Kahl?" I asked in a questioning tone.

He just looked at me, dazed.

"Go FUCK yourself, Jew!" I spat in his face and then immediately walked out of the shitty bar.

As I was walking over to one of the taxis that was parked on the street (waiting to pick up drunks), I heard a familiar voice calling me and running after me.

"Cartman!" Stan huffed.

"The hell was that all about?!" He asked, in shock.

"THAT was all about why I didn't want to come here tonight!" I said, pointing towards the bar.

"Or anywhere tonight. Kyle ALWAYS gets shit-hammered and makes a fucking scene!"

Stan shook his head. "We all have the occasional bad drinking night, Cartman. Yeah he was being too loud, but-"

"_Occasional?! _OCCASSIONAL!" I laughed in shock. "No no no no, you stupid hippie. This is every. Fucking. Night."

The hippie looked at me in disbelief. I continued.

"And his drinking got a lot worse after you left," I stated.

"You're exaggerating…." He said, looking at the ground.

"Exaggerating?! OH REALLY?!" Now I was pissed.

"How many times has Kyle made an ass out of you like that in public when he was drinking? How many times have you helped Kenny bring Kyle in from the car and put him to bed? How many times have you seen him you get _violent_ for absolutely no reason, other than he's drunk?"

Stan kept his gaze down, not wanting to hear any of this.

"Or better yet, have you ever even cleaned up the Jew's vomit? Even just _once?"_

"Look, things got serious with me and Wendy!" He retorted. "I've been busy!"

I motioned to the nearest taxi that I will be in there, but to give me one more second.

"Too busy to send him a text, Stan?" I asked, walking backwards closer to the taxi.

Again Stan hung his head, ashamed.

I stood there, observing his shame since I called him on it.

I nodded. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

Stan stood there dumbfound as I got into the back seat of the taxi. I quickly told him where to go and then I rolled down the window.

"By the way, congratulations," I said hollowly, not meaning a word of what I just said.

I turned around and watched Stan's body get smaller and smaller as the taxi drove away.

What a fucking night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello everyone! First let me say that I am HONORED by all of your glowing reviews! I seriously can't believe I have as many as I have- and all of them are SO sweet- and I feel like I'm only getting started with my story. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

"Folks, I know that for some of you, the last test was a breeze, but I am TELLING you that this second one tends to be everyone's Achilles heel,"

I half-listened to Dr. DeMejo give his usual be-ready-for-the-test-in-two-days spiel as I jotted down some formulas he left on the board. Dr. D is such a good teacher and usually I follow him pretty well, but today for whatever reason I'm having a really hard time concentrating. Maybe it's because I'm still thinking about all the bullshit that went down last weekend. I'm just hoping my notes are thorough enough so that I can brush up enough and be ready in two days…. I'll be alright.

After Dr. D dismissed class and I was packing up my book, notebook, folder and calculator, I couldn't help but notice Dr. D's eager face, as if he wanted to say something to me.

"Eric?" He asked.

"Yes Dr. DeMejo?" I responded, wondering if I'm in trouble.

"I wanted to talk to you about your last excel homework."

_Shit._ I couldn't have forgot to turn it in on time again, could I?

"I thought I sent it to you two days ago, Dr. DeMejo." I answered. I have been VERY anal about sending those in advance now since that last time he got on to me.

"Yes, and I got it fine," He said, but he was pausing, as if thinking about exactly how he wanted to say whatever the hell he wanted to say next.

"BUT…."

Ohhh goodie. Here it comes.

"I had to give you an 85 on it, Eric."

My jaw dropped. Is he _fucking_ serious?!

Dr. D seemed to have read my mind.

"I'm being serious, Eric." He said. "And honestly, most of your mistakes were just simple mistakes. I think you rushed through it."

How fucking DARE he say that! …But yeah he's right. I DID rush through it.

I decided to not try to bullshit him. After all, he is the head of the math department. "I'm sorry Dr. DeMejo. I'll take my time next time and not rush through it."

"I'm not worried about your excel homework," He replied. "All the excel homework is only worth 10% of your total grade. But each one of your tests is worth 15%," He explained. "And there's only 3 tests."

I think he's telling me to not fuck up on Wednesday. "Okay Dr. DeMejo," I said. "I'll be ready Wednesday."

"Okay Eric."

As I was walking from class back to the dorm, I couldn't help but re-live the events of last weekend. After I went back home (irate) I somehow was able to pass out last Thursday. Then Friday morning Kyle and I woke up around the same time 7:45-8:15-ish to get ready for our jobs, as usual. He works at a Barnes and Noble-like store that sells all kinds of second-hand books, movies, and music. I work at a insurance company two days a week, really just interning (and getting paid for it, which is kick-ass).

After I took a shower I saw Kyle in the kitchen, who hadn't bathed yet. He managed to change into his pajamas last night and his hair was big and matted. But he still looked like shit.

He was fixing cereal and orange juice.

"Why did you pull that shit last night?"

He scrunched his face.

"What shit?" 

I laughed mockingly. "Lemme guess…. 'You don't remember', right?"

The Jew stood there, bowl of cereal in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other, completely still because he was in deep thought.

"You were at Eleven Bar, right?"

"Mmmmmmm-hmmmmmmmm!" I hummed factiously.

"I remember doing a few shots with Kenny, buying Butters a Sex-on-the-Beach, and then dancing," He said.

"I really don't remember anything past that."

"So you really don't remember picking a fight with me at the bar, do you?" My tone was almost musical, as if I was _almost_ having fun with my sarcasm.

"No Cartman," The daywalker replied, seriously. "What all did I do?"

I looked at the ground, shaking my head.

"It doesn't fucking matter, Jew." And then, before he could say anything else, I added:

"Why do you drink so much?"

"I don't!"

"Oh you don't?"

"No, Cartman! I don't!" The redhead snapped. "It's not like I drink _everyday_."

I smirked. "Even if you don't, when you do drink, you _always_ get smashed."

Kyle shrugged. "How is it any of your business, anyways?"

I took a step closer, his Jew-nose almost touching mine. "Because when you're starting a huge argument with _me_ in public, that's when it becomes my business." 

"Look Cartman, for whatever I did and said last night, I'm really sorry." His eyes seemed genuine, but that didn't faze me one bit.

I sighed. "You're _always_ sorry, Kahl. Each and every time."

The redhead quickly placed his cereal bowl and glass of OJ on the kitchen counter, next to the sink.

"I was drunk, okay Cartman?" He pleaded. "You gotta give me a break sometimes."

I breathed heavily, figuring it would once again be a waste of my time and energy to try to explain to the Jew that I do nothing BUT give him breaks every time he makes an ass out of himself publicly. Without saying another word I decided to go back to my room and work on my hair more before I left for work.

**TUESDAY EVENING**

"International business, huh?" I chuckled, slicing up the bread the waitress just dropped off.

"Is that why you study French?"

Kyle nodded, waiting anxiously on me to be finished slicing my bread so that he could get started.

Here my roommate and I were, dining out at of the fanciest five-star restaurants in South Park. There was a strict dress code and Kyle and I were both wearing suits. He was wearing a navy blue one with a matching tie and I was wearing black.

"I guess it was an excuse. I've always thought French was a beautiful language."

As I placed the bread knife down I found myself covering my mouth, coughing. "coughcoughFAGcoughcough"

"Whatever, fatass!" The redhead snapped.

Then I noticed how it seemed like everyone around us were couples all dressed up for a night on the town. I guess that would make sense, this being a fucking over-the-top restaurant, way up high on the 18th floor of some fancy snob-ass building. People who dine out in duos here are either couples or business partners. Hopefully people think me and Kyle are the latter.

"So," the redhead cleared his throat, as if making an attempt to continue our almost-civil conversation. "You chose math, right Cartman?"

I took a bite of the bread with butter on it. "Yup," I said with my mouth full, not giving a fuck about manners for a second. I was fucking hungry, and everything in this aristocratic restaurant smelled fucking amazing, dammit!

The Jew made a face, but then tried not to let my lack of bad "table manners" ruin the night. He is SO easy to read. 

"After you graduate from South Park, are you planning to get your Master's?"

I shook my head after just biting down on another piece. "Nope!"

The Jew screwed his face. "What? But why?"

"Because I'm going to be an actuary," I explained. "And all I need to do is pass a few exams once I have my Bachelor's."

"What's that?" He asked.

I slammed both of my hands on the table. "Jesus Christ, Kahl!" I'm pretty sure a few heads turned towards our table.

"You're Jewish and you don't know what a fucking actuary is?!"

I'm also pretty sure I heard a few scowls around me, but whatev's. These rich assholes will get over it.

"They use a lot of fucking statistics, Kahl!" I yelled. "They can predict where businesses are going based on historical data."

The Jew's green eyes looked big, as if processing all of this new information.

"Ohh…" He thought aloud. "But why do you want to do that?"

I took another chomp out of the bread. "Because, they fuckin' make bank."

"Like how much?"

"Easily six figures," I replied. "Some are even millionaires….. And I am going to be one of them."

At first the Jew was quiet. Then he stifled a chuckle. My eyebrows furrowed.

"What's wrong, Jew?"

"Oh nothing," He said, then he let out a giggle. "It's just- you plan to be a successful, millionaire-status, mathematician? Haha! " He asked, now not bothering to confine his toothy grin.

I felt my blood pressure rising. Fucking Jew! "YES Kahl," I responded. "Why is that so fucking funny?"

He shook his head and tried to breath for air. "Ohh, it's hee hee not funny, it's just ha ha…. I mean it's so-" Then he could no longer contain himself and he just busted out laughing, much louder than he usually is.

And then I heard him.

My eyes popped open as I heard Kyle's loud, obnoxious and drunk laugh coming through the front door. I looked over at my alarm clock which read 5:06 a.m. It's 5:06 Wednesday in the morning.

MOTHER. FUCKER.

I jumped out of bed and swung open my bedroom door to see what I had already predicted in my mind; Kyle shit-faced as ever with a pretty drunk Kenny trying to prop him up and help him walk.

"Heheheh, shhhhh!" Kenny laughed. "Don't wake them up!"

"GOOD MORNING!" Kyle yelled, then laughing historically.

I marched right up to my asshole roommate.

"Good FUCKING morning, KAHL!" I spat in his face.

Despite his drunken stupor, the Poor Boy tried to get in between us, quickly seeing where things were going.

"Heey mannn," He said, "I'll take care of him, he's just being too-"

I pushed Kenny to the side and once again got in the Jew's face.

"Do you have ANY fucking idea what time it is?" I asked.

He couldn't even look at me straight, he was closing one eye to see me.

"It'ssss not a big deal, Fatass." He said. He hiccupped.

"Oh yes it is, Kahl!" I remained in his face, not budging. "It's a BIG fucking deal when it's the night before your test for your inferential stats class!"

"Fuck YOU and your…. Fucking…. STATS!" Kyle yelled while closing his eyes a good bit.

Then I noticed Butters coming out of his room, and he walked over and stood by Kenny.

"Fellas?" He said, scared.

The Jew hiccupped. "You think you're- some how SHIT- with your math and everything!"

While I was still staring down Kyle, I could see Kenny slowly maneuvering to his bedroom to pass out.

"No Kahl," I responded. "It's just called a good work ethic, which you know nothing about. Maybe one day when you grow a fucking brain you'll understand, you stupid Jew!"

The drunk asshole crocked his head to the left.

"Does saying that make you feel better, Fatass?"

I heaved a pissed off sigh of relief. "Does saying WHAT make me feel better?"

Kyle giggled in a dark way. "You know, all your anti-semantic remarks?" He giggled a little louder. Then the tone of his voice got lower.

"It must make you feel better about not having a father."

Everything got really quiet.

That- ASSHOLE. I wanted to hit him SO hard- more than I ever had in my life before- and for the first time ever I was questioning myself for not doing what I actually felt like doing.

I took a step back, calculating my thoughts.

"Kahl." I said in a calm tone.

"Yes?"

"Do you remember Kevin?"

"Stan's friend?"

I nodded. "Yes, the frat boy."

My asshole roommate shook his head.

"Yes, we used hang out with him, a year ago."

I felt a smile slowly spreading across my lips.

"No, _you_ used to Kahl." I explain. "Kevin and I still hang out."

The redhead's eyes widen. "What?" He said.

"Oh YES Kahl," I started pacing slowly. "Remember that one time we all went to Bobbie's and you puked IN the restaurant, at the table?"

The Jew slowly nodded.

"He told me he never wanted to hang out with you after that," I said, walking back and forth slowly. "He was all like, 'Oh, that's your _roommate_? How do you _live_ with someone like that?!'"

I studied the Jew's expression. He looked dumbfounded, and so did Butters.

I continued to pace. "So every time you've invited him to "go out", he has _intentionally _blown you off, all this time." I stopped pacing.

"And Kevin's not the only one."

"N-no, you're just- you're…." My alchie roommate was struggling to respond.

"Ya see Kahl," I now walked straight up to his face. "No one fucking takes you seriously. They have no reason to,"

His emerald eyes were widened, deep in fear.

"You bring _everyone_ down, Kahl." I said.

"No one wants to even be _near _you."

For a second we had a staring contest. I stared into his emerald eyes with my cold brown ones, making sure I was saying "fuck you!" through my eyes.

Then I saw the tears forming.

And just like that, the Jew turned around as he sobbed, ran to his room, and slammed the door.

"Oh no Eric," Butters said. "Now he's really upset!"

Kyle's sobs were fucking annoying. He was absolutely wailing.

"But did you just hear what he said to me, Butters?!" I pointed to his door.

"I should be fucking upset too!"

"Well, geez…" The blonde struggled with the right words. "I-I know what Kyle said wasn't right, Eric. B-but maybe you should go apologize,"

I rolled my eyes.

"S-so that we can all go to sleep?"

Yeah, I guess my faggoty roommate _does_ have a point. And by the way Kyle is wailing, I guess I should go make sure he's not ready to blow his brains out.

I sighed. "Alright Butters," I said. "I'll take care of it from here. Just go back to fucking bed. Jesus Christ."

Butters seemed encouraged as he wore a faint smile and walked back to his room. Right when he was walking back, Kyle's frantic sobbing stopped.

I walked over to his door and knocked.

"Kahl?"

I knocked again. Nothing.

"Kahl!"

Then one more time, to make sure.

"Gahdammit you stubborn Jew, open the goddamn door!"

Still silence. So, I walked back to my room and grabbed the long nail I use every time I need to break into Kyle's room for some reason. He, of course, as no idea that I do that.

After picking the lock, I saw that he was in his bathroom, with the light on and the door closed. Surprisingly, the bathroom door was unlocked. Guess he didn't feel the need to lock that since his main door was unlocked.

What I saw next absolutely took me for a fucking ride.

Kyle was slouched up, leaning against the bathtub wearing only boxers. His left leg was outstretched and covered in blood that was already dripping on the floor. His right hand was holding a butcher knife.

THE. FUCK.

"Kahl?" I squeaked out, surprised at how weak my voice sounded.

Slowly, the redhead moved his gaze from the floor to meet my eyes. His face was smothered in tears and yet he looked dazed, even more so when he's drunk. Like this was no life at all going on in there.

We both stared at each other for a second, it being completely different than the staring contest we had less than five minute ago.

Jesus Christ, Jew. What is _wrong_ with you?


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the long wait! I had to do my research and re-read the famous "Aston's Monologue" from the play The Caretaker to get inspiration for this chapter and tie it into the story. This chapter is unique and hopefully helps explain why Kyle is such a 'hot mess' (maybe just a little bit, anyways). As always, please review! Enjoy!**

"C-Cartman…." Kyle murmured as we stared at each other. His eyebrows furrowed out of more anguish, as he looked down to his left leg.

"What the fuck did I do….?" He choked up at the end of his question as he began to sob again.

"Shhhh, Kahl!" I tried my best to shush him as I knelt down to his level. He ignored me as he dropped the butcher knife so that he could bring both of his hands to his face as he sobbed, wracking his whole body with each sob.

When I got closer, I noticed just _how deep _these cuts were. Christ, I hope he doesn't have to be rushed to the ER for stitches. I immediately stood up, grabbed one of his towels, soaked it with soap and water and began cleaning the wounds.

I heard the Jew draw in a sharp breath, as I'm sure it stung. When I was done with that, I grabbed another towel, located the rubbing alcohol in his cabinet, and then started to disinfect the wounds.

"SHIT!" The redhead moaned as it stung.

"Quiet, Kahl!" I said, barely turning my gaze to his face. "If you can handle cutting yourself with a fucking butcher knife, then you sure as fuck can handle this."

"You….." He paused.

I could tell he wanted me to look at him. So fuck it, I did.

"You're not going to tell anyone…. About this, are you?"

All of a sudden he had even more awareness in his eyes, as if he just sobered up. But more than his sudden awareness, I saw something blatantly piercing through his eyes:

Fear.

"No, Jew." I said as I continued to make sure every wound was drying up.

I stood up and got one last clean towel. I got on the floor one last time, to press these wounds as hard as I fucking could to stop the bleeding.

"I'm not going to tell anyone, Kahl." I said with a sigh. To be completely honest, I had no goddamn idea what I was going to do about this shit-show night. I was barely aware of what I was even doing then, that moment. Me, taking care of my alcoholic-Jew-turned-emo-fag-roommate's self-inflicted wounds?! The _fuck_ was I thinking?! But again I think I was too tired to think anything through, and I was willing to say and do anything so that we could all just go to fucking bed.

"Cartman, I-" I could tell the Jew was having a hard time finding the words as he was waiting for me to make the bleeding stop.

"I swear I don't normally do this."

I nodded my head, still concentrating on applying the pressure.

"I mean, I-it's been a long time,"

I shrugged. Whatever.

"This just isn't me, I don't cut my-"

"Gahdammit Kahl!" I said, trying to control my temper. I stood up and saw that the bleeding finally stopped.

"We can talk about this tomorrow." I lent him a hand and helped him get up and wobble- since he was leaning on his right leg- to his bed. Then I went back to the bathroom and picked up the butcher knife. And the pair of scissors. And his razor. And his separate blades.

When I stepped out of the bathroom I saw that he looked as if he already passed out.

"Goodnight, Jew." I said to him while he was sleeping as I left the room.

**THE NEXT DAY**

As I stepped out of the math building, I stretched. I did the best I could with that stats test, given my shitty-ass circumstances. I just blocked last night's events out of my mind for an hour and 15 minutes. But I did feel so much more fucking tired than I normally feel, and that fucking sucks balls because this test was a bitch. I really don't know how I did. Hopefully I still made an A….. Hopefully.

I grabbed my cell phone to turn the volume on and saw that Butters had texted me.

**B: Hi Eric, is Kyle okay?**

I thought about how I should respond to my overly pure, innocent, and gay roommate. There's really no need to try to tell him more than what he already knows.

**C: Yeah. He's fine. We talked it out last night.**

Right after that Butters responded:

**B: Oh neato! I knew you could do, Eric!**

I rolled my eyes. Truth is, there was a _lot _left to talk about with the daywalker, and to be honest I really didn't want to fucking do it. I am sick of dealing with his shit. But, I mean, fuck it. If I don't look after him who fucking will?

When I got back to the dorm, I dropped my book bag by the bar in the kitchen. Then I heard a door open. To my surprise, it was actually the Jew himself.

I may have jumped in surprise at his appearance. Now, I'm used to his shit-faced hungover décor, but this time he looked shittier than usual. He had huge bags under his eyes, probably from crying like a bitch. And of course he was wearing a long-sleeve shirt.

"Can I please have my razor back, so that I can shave?" He asked.

Then I noticed the mid-afternoon shadow, which was already kinda full. I silently chuckled to myself. I think all redheads look weird as fuck with facial hair; it's like they're trying to be Chuck Norris. The Jew could never pass for Chuck Norris, as it looks like he couldn't kick his _own_ ass. That is except of course when he was mutilating himself.

"That depends, Kahl." I responded. "You going to turn into an emo-fag again if I give you back your razor?"

The redhead quickly turned his head to the front door to make sure no one came in to hear that.

"Butters should be coming back soon," He said. "Let's talk in my room."

The redhead shut the door behind us after we walked into his room. I decided to sit down in the chair next to his desk, and Kyle sat across me on his bed.

"Seriously, Kahl." I said. "What the FUCK was last night about?"

The redhead hung his head. "It's… Really hard to explain."

I continued with the questions. "And you said you hadn't "done this" in a long time…. What, have you always been an emo-fag?!"

He nodded. "I started cutting myself when I was 14,"

I rolled my eyes.

"Shut the fuck up, Kahl."

"Gohdammit, I'm being fucking serious, Cartman!"

"Then how come you didn't seem fucking depressed back then?!" 

He shrugged.

"Maybe I didn't seem like it, but…." He looked at me. "I was depressed. I guess I was just good at hiding it."

This was just hard for me to believe. Fourteen? _Fourteen?!_ You mean, all those times the four of us bullshited at the bus stop, all those times we made prank calls, all those times we watched Terrence and Phillip marathons all day on Saturdays…. Kyle was _cutting _himself? Sure, the Jew has always had sand up his vagina, but I didn't think he had fucking issues.

…. I just didn't really know what to do or think in this situation. I put my hands in my lap, feeling awkward. I looked at the ground as I tried to find the "right" words to say.

"Does anyone else know about this?" Was all that I could think of.

He nodded. "My family knows. Because they were told," He said and we both caught each other's glaze. I could tell he was vulnerable because the Jew immediately tore his gaze to his hands, which were playing with his fingernails.

"… They were told. You see, some people found out…. At school."

I raised an eyebrow.

"And I didn't find out?"

He shook his head. "No students know. It was. Mr. Garrison who first found out."

"What, you confided in that fag?"

"No, he found _me_ out," the Jew took a deep breath. "Do you remember when the school was having a huge "cheating epidemic" or whatever?"

I huffed sarcastically. "Yeah, I remember. It was a bunch of bullshit, but I remember."

"Well, it was the day of a big history test," Kyle said.

"I remember because he came in in a horrible mood, and I could tell that he was ready to go off on us."

"Fag probably had a fight with his S&M lover," I figured.

"Cartman, will you PLEASE let me continue?"  
I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, Jew."

"Anyways," He continued, drawing in a deep breath. "He said that he recently found out that there were quite a few students in EVERY class at the school cheating, and he threatened to kill us if he caught any of us 'little bastards' cheating in his class."

I chuckled. I always _loved _it when Mr. Garrison was pissed. It didn't take much either.

Kyle ignored my amusement. "So Mr. Garrison told everything that, starting today, there would be no drinks on the desk during the test, and-" Kyle furrowed his eyebrows.

"And that everyone had to roll up their sleeves, just to make _sure_ that no one was cheating."

"Ohhhhhhhhhh!" I said, recalling the memory. "And you got out of it somehow, didn't you Kahl? I remember because you went up to Mr. Garrison and said something to him and you so he didn't make you- and ONLY you- roll up your sleeves." I was somewhat amazed at my good memory.

"I think I called you out on it, too."

"Yes you did, Fatass." The redhead retorted. "And I was _seething_ inside. I thought, 'if he only knew.' But then again, I figured that maybe you would've been happy to see the cuts. I mean, back then at least."

"The fuck does that mean, Kahl?!" I asked, somewhat pissed.

"You've always pissed me off Jew, but I've never _hated _you," I said.

The daywalker shrugged. "Well, I was pretty sure you hated me back then."

Then he finally stopped playing with his fingernails and folded his arms, his back slouched forward.

"Actually, I thought _everyone_ hated me," He said, looking straight forward to his wall over by my side.

"But maybe I just thought that because I knew that I hated myself, so everyone else probably hated me too."

In any other circumstance I would laugh, joke, point, tease and draw attention to the "faggy emo kid." But listening to Kyle didn't make me want to do that, because I could tell that he has genuinely been feeling this way for a long, long time. He doesn't cut for attention as much as it is punishment for hating himself. Why he hates himself, I'm still not sure yet. It's probably that fatass-bitch mom of his; _she _ probably made him feel like this back then, and I'm sure she does now.

I cleared my throat, trying to get on with this story.

"So Mr. Garrison just let you get away like that?"

The redhead shook his head.

"No, he made me stay after the test. He said to me, 'Kyle, you better have a good explanation as to why you couldn't roll up your sleeves just now'. I told him there was a legit reason but I couldn't tell him exactly what that was. He didn't believe me and he insisted that I rolled up my sleeves. I pleaded and said that I just couldn't, but then he finally said that if I don't roll up my sleeves he'll have to assume that I've been cheating." 

"So what'ya do?"

"I decided that being accused of being crazy was better than being accused of being dishonest," He said. Then the Jew's voice got soft. "So…. I looked behind me, to make sure that there was no one walking in the hallway. And…. I rolled up my sleeves."

I waited for him to tell me Mr. Garrison's reaction, but instead the daywalker hung his head.

Finally, I just had to ask. "What'd he say?"

"He-" Kyle stopped, and I could see the pain in his eyes, as if he could still picture Mr. Garrison's reaction. "He didn't take it real well. And he sent me to the school counselor."

"Was Mr. Mackay any better?" I asked.

Kyle chuckled sarcastically. "Depends on what your definition of 'better' is," He said. He shook his head. "Mr. McKay maybe wasn't as-_ horrified_- as Mr. Garrison was," He sighed. "But he calmly explained to me that, due to my age and the law, that they _had _to contact my parents and tell them,"

"Holy fuck," I said.

"Not only that, but that they legally had to suggest to my parents that I…. Go away…. For awhile,"

"The nuthouse?" I asked.

The daywalker shrugged. "Something like that. But I was so certain that my parents would _never_ do that," he said.

The daywalker chuckled again in the same manner. "I felt like I just knew for sure. But when I got home, there were my parents, Ike, and…. This man that I have never seen before sitting in the family room…." I could easily hear the disappointment in his voice.

"They fucking sent you away?!" I started to shout.

Kyle kept his gaze on the ground and mumbled. "Yeah."

I felt my blood pressure rising. "Your stupid, fat, dumb, overprotective piece-of-shit myuu-"

"They were just doing what they thought was best, Cartman!" He snapped.

"So that was the time you went away?" I asked, remembering when Mr. Garrison announced to the class that the Jew would be gone for awhile because his 'diabetes were a bit out of control.' Teaches really do lie to their students all the goddamn time.

He nodded. "For a month. It was a month of just… I don't know."

"That bad huh?"

"It really wasn't _that _bad," He answered. "But if I could go back, I wouldn't have been so honest."

I lifted an eyebrow. The _fuck_?

"You see, my honesty got me trouble, because I was honest when I said I still wanted to cut myself," He explained. "It was two weeks and I still wanted to cut myself really bad. They said I should've made more progress by then, so one of the doctors- I forgot his name- told me he would try a _new_ treatment,"

The Jew got really quiet.

"What treatment was it Kahl?"

"Well, they said it was _new_," He went back to playing with his fingernails. "But it wasn't really new at all. It was old…. It was shock therapy."

"The FUCK?!" This is fucking 2014. I couldn't believe the shit I was hearing!

The redhead shrugged, as if it was nothing.

"It's not like I had a say in anything. I just wish…. They hadn't of woken me up in the middle of the night. And when they did, I stood up, because I knew that they couldn't do it with me standing up, or else it could cause spine damage." He breathed. "But… They did it to me standing up anyways. I don't have any spine problems, so I guess that's good…."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Who the fuck does _shock therapy_ anymore?

"Did it help?" I asked.

The redhead shook his head. "Not really. I just learned to lie and say everything that they wanted me to say so that I could get out and so that they would never, EVER do that to me again."

We were both quiet for a minute.

"If anything, I think it slowed my thinking down," He commented, finally looking me in the eye. Then his expression softened.

"I envy you, Cartman. Your brain is so, so- sharp. Like, the way your mind works- you're going to make a great actuary someday,"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The Jew was weakly smiling at me too. I guess he really means it…?

"But me…." His gaze dropped back down to the ground. "After that 'treatment'… My mind will never be the same. It just feels…. Slower, and…. Groggier, somehow," He explained.

"So that's why I chose International Business, because I thought maybe- just MAYBE- if I worked really hard, I could perhaps be good enough to be average. In other words, good enough to get by on my own. Like, it's not an easy major by all means, but it's not math or biology or anything too above my level, so I figured I could possibly do it."

"Kahl…." I didn't even know where to start. "Look Jew, I know we're like almost kewl and all, but you REALLY need some fucking help," I honestly didn't know how else to put it.

The redhead nodded. "I know I do, Cartman."

"Will you go to the counseling center and just fucking talk to someone? That shit is free too."

"I guess I can try," He responded "But I haven't had great luck with counselors in the past."

I shook my head. "But you gotta do something to get better, Kahl."

And I wasn't just saying that for him, too. I was also saying that for me, for Butters, and for Kenny. He shit affects all of us.

"….Okay," He said. "I'll try to check it out tomorrow."

I smirked. "Good!"

I finally got up and headed towards the door. My legs felt numb, like I was sitting at his desk for hours.

"Cartman?"

"Yes Kahl?"

"May I have my razor back, please?"

"As long as you don't turn all gheyy again, yes you may Kahl."


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello everyone! I need to apologize for two things; first of all, I apologize for taking forever to update. My life has been craaazy busy lately but I PROMISE I am going to do better to update more often from here on. Secondly, I apologize that this chapter is short, but it is necessary with where I'm going with the story. Anyways, please continue to review because nothing makes me happier than when I get feedback. Enjoy!**

"Well, just to let you know, you scored the highest on this last test, Eric." Dr. Priest told me as she smiled.

"R-really?" I asked, a bit in shock myself.

Dr. Priest suppressed a chuckled. "You shouldn't be so shocked, Eric." She said. "Honestly, you've earned it."

Her hazel eyes twinkled as she smiled. Even though this woman was in her late 40's and she had some wrinkles and she did have some strands of grey hair that somehow she could never quite get every time she dyed her hair, I STILL thought she was attractive.

I tried to give off the impression that I was blushing, but honestly I was bursting with pride inside. "Thank you so much Dr. Priest," I said modestly, tucking my chin.

"You're welcome Eric," She said, still smiling. I noticed that other students started to get closer to her, like they want to say something, so I decided I should probably leave on a high note.

As I stepped outside the Math Building this sunny January day, I realized how good the weather actually was for it being January in Colorado. Still bursting with pride, I reached inside my backpack and pulled out the test.

"A motherfucking 100," I mused as I eyed the beautiful red ink of Dr. Preist's, as well as a "Good job!" note next to it.

I breathed in the brisk but refreshing air through my nostrils and exhaled through my mouth as I stretched at the same time. This is already turning out to be a kick-ass semester.

During the last fall semester, after having that long talk with Kyle, he kept his word and DID go see a counselor in the Counseling Center at SPU. He said his counselor's name was "Josh Dunn", and that he was nice. The Jew made a comment or two that Josh was a little weird, and that he didn't really get the whole emo-fag-cutting thing, but that he had heard of it.

"He _says_ he understands it, because he's had other students that have cut too," The Jew would explain. "But I don't think he really does. Sometimes I think he thinks I'm _really _fucked up, but tried not to show it."

I shrugged when Kyle told me that. A part of me thinks that it could just be because of his crazy mind, but then again, I don't know his faggy-counselor. Maybe he _does_ really judge Kyle, deep down. But either way, I was just happy to hear that he kept going back to see him, since is allowed 25 counseling sessions per semester.

I also noticed that when the Jew started to go for counseling, he cut back on his drinking. A LOT. So much so that Kenny had to start seeking out new friends to get messed up with on a nightly basis. So instead of partying, the Jew was studying much more.

And maybe I was just imagining it, but the few times I would come back from class and he would be leaving to go to class (or vica-versa), I would of course say, "Sup, Jew?" And he would respond with "Hey Fatass," with a smile. A _genuine_ smile. Lately the Jew seemed the happiest that I have ever seen him in a long fucking time. Despite the cold winter weather, he seemed so much more warm and full of life lately than he did during the fall semester.

I _would_ say that I am actually proud of the daywalker, but that would sound so fucking gheyy, so I'm not going to say that.

**NEXT SUNDAY**

"Kinneh, it's your fucking turn to take out the garbage, you dumb fuck!" I yelled as I pummeled my white-trash roommate's door.

He opened the door and the room reeked of weed. Not to mention his eyes were bloodshot.

"Dude, can't you see I'm fucking busy?" He asked in between coughs.

"Can't you see all the fucks I give?!" I asked. "Just stop being a fag and do it!"

He shrugged. "Fuck you Cartman," He mumbled as he slammed the door in my face. I went back out and continued with the excel spreadsheet I was working on.

After about five minutes, I could hear the pothead come out of his room as he knocked on Butters' door.

"Wanna help me with the trash?"

"Sure, buddy!"

I rolled my eyes. Butters is _such_ a bitch.

There was about 4 giant trash bags (and about to burst) and I half-way paid attention as Kenny grabbed two and Butters grabbed two. As they were leaving, Kyle came in, still wearing his nametag from work. He walked to the kitchen and I could hear him open a can of some-sort. I could see out the corner of my eyes that the Jew plopped himself down on the chair adjacent from the couch. I quickly averted my gaze to him to see what he was drinking.

A coke. Kewl.

"How was work Jew?" I asked nonchalantly, going back to my spreadsheet.

"Long and tiring," He said as he took a long sip from his coke. After a second, he added,

"Another excel spreadsheet?" He asked.

"Yeeeeeeeep," I replied sarcastically, not bothering to move my eyes from the screen.

"Christ," He said.

"It's like this in all my stats classes, Kahl." I said.

The daywalker shrugged. "I guess it'll pay off one day, huh?" He sighed as he stretched his arms out in front.

"I'm SO not looking forward to my classes tomorrow," He complained.

I sighed. "Me neither."

While the redhead took another sip of his coke, his phone rang. After looking at his phone, he got up and went to his room and shut the door.

I figured it was either a girl or his big, fat, bitch-mom. It's more likely the latter.

At first I didn't hear any of the Jew's conversation. But after about a minute I could hear him yelled, "WHAT?!" followed by some muffled crying.

I knew something wasn't right.

When Kyle came out, he didn't bother to hide the tears streaming down his face. He stood in front of me, jacket under one arm, simply stating, "I gotta go,"

"What happened?" I asked.

At first I could tell the redhead wanted to answer normally, but my question only prompted him to break down and cry more. He slowly sunk to the floor, propping himself up on his hands and knees.

"It's- it's…." He could barely talk as his shoulders shook. I got up from the couch and knelt by him.

"Kahl, what _is _it?" I asked.

"I-It's Ike," He choked out. Then, after he tried to gather his breathing, he managed to add:

"He was just in a car accident."


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello hello! So here is a longer chapter to make up for the short one that I had last time. I apologize for the events in this chapter and the ones to come. Again, this is loosely based around a true story so things are going to get a lot worse for Kyle before they get better (unfortunately). **

**As always, PLEASE review and give me your feedback! I love you all!**

"Ike?" I asked "Is he okay?"

The redhead shook his head while attempting to wipe away tears. "I don't know. My mom said that they're on the way to the ICU in Hell's Pass. They said it's serious,"

Then the Jew moved his eyes from the floor up to me.

"That's why I have to go," He said as he pushed himself off the floor and started to put his arms through his jacket's sleeves.

"Let me drive, Kahl!" I yelled right after he took his first step towards the door.

The redhead stopped and turned around. His raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"You… Want to come with me?" He asked softly.

I nodded. "You're really upset right now, Kahl. It's better if I drive so that way I can get you there fast AND safely."

"If… If that's what you want. But you don't have to, Cartman."

"But I want to, Jew."

"…. Okay."

After the redhead locked the dorm suite, I told him that we were taking my car. Luckily, our families are only 20 minutes away from SPU. Still, I knew that if I _really_ hauled ass, we could make it to Hell's Pass in 15. And that is exactly what I plan to do.

As soon as we got in my car, Kyle began texting like crazy. After about a minute of me driving like a boss, I noticed he stopped crying. Finally, he stopped texting and put his phone back in his pocket.

Then the phone rang.

"Hello?"

From what I could hear, there was some sort of loud noise coming through the phone.

After a pause, my roommate stammered a response.

"_What? _N-no, that didn't happen."

Another pause. I could still hear the same noise.

"No, it's not true!" My passenger managed to choke out the words.

"No!" Was all he could say before he broke down sobbing.

My heart sunk. I feel like I already know what kind of shitty news Kyle just got.

After a minute, he sniffed and cleared his throat, trying to talk.

"Yeah, we're on our way. I-I'll see you soon. Love you too dad."

After he hung up the phone the redhead dropped his phone into the floorboard and bent over and sobbed loudly, hugging his knees.

While I couldn't really look too much at him since I was trying to get to the hospital fast, I could hear all of Kyle's pain in his loud mourning. So hopeless, sad, and lost. His back wracked each time he tried to gasp for air. I'm pretty sure that this is the loudest I've ever heard someone cry their eyes out.

The next time he tried to gasp for air, I asked:

"Kahl, is Ike-"

"HE DIDN'T MAKE IT!" He lifted his head to scream, followed by more sobbing. Then, still crying into his knees, he sobbed, "He didn't fucking make it!"

I felt horrible. I suppose everything I was going to see at Hell's Pass was going to be fucking sad and fucked up. But at least Kyle isn't going to be alone.

When we got to the hospital, I did not waste time to find out exactly where the ICU was and when we got there, to find out exactly where Ike Broflovski was.

When we entered his room, I saw both Mr. and Mrs. Broflovski hugging Ike from either side of the bed, wailing painfully and loudly. I looked at Ike. Honestly, I wouldn't have known it was him if I didn't know what was going on. His hospital bed sheets were pulled up to his chin, and through the sheets I could see a lot of fucking blood seeping through. He had all sorts of Ivs and shit hooked up to him, including a wire connected to a heart rate monitor displaying a straight red line along with the monotone solid sound, indicating no beating. When I looked at his face, it was so swollen and bruised and has so many stitches that it was hard to make out his features. There was an especially large open wound on the side of his mouth.

There were also two nurses there, and they both looked like they had been crying, too.

"Mom….?" The Jew asked weakly, slowly stepping closer to his family.

Kyle's mom somehow heard herself being summoned over her lamenting as she got up from the bedside and ran to Kyle. They both held each other in their arms, continuing to wail. Mr. Broflovski turned his head around and the sight of seeing his wife and son cry and comfort each other made him cry harder, too.

I stood there observing everything and felt awkward. I have always sucked at this kind of shit. But fuck, even I was sad. Ike was a very cool kid. Hell, I always got along with him better than Kyle growing up. And this totally sucks because he was still very young- only a junior in high school.

I was kinda lost in my thoughts as I continued to watch the Broflovski family comfort each other, still mourning endlessly. Normally I don't think about this shit, but while watching all this I just couldn't help but wonder if there really _is_ a God. I mean, if there is one, why would he take the life of an innocent, young kid like Ike? Why would he want to do this to Kyle and his parents? All I know is if there _is _a God, he has one fucked up sense of humor.

I noticed the two nurses talking to each other. There was a younger one with dark hair and then an older one with short blonde hair. The older one was holding a tissue, occasionally dabbing her eyes.

"I'll go get Dr. Hanley again," I could hear the younger one say as she left the room while I approached them.

"How did he die?" I asked the older nurse.

"Drunk driver hit the poor boy," She replied.

"No I mean, how did he die, physically?"

"He had too much blood loss," The nurse answered. She wiped her eyes as she explained, "We did everything we could to save him. We were even trying to pump blood back into him, but he already lost so much at the actual collision,"

"Was Ike driving?"

She shook her head. "No. He was in a car with 3 others. They were driving back from watching a football game. Ike was in the passenger's seat though, and a drunk driver was driving on the wrong side of the road,"

"Jesus Christ," I said.

"What about the others?" I asked.

"The other passengers are critically injured, but they are alive. It looks like the drunk driver isn't going to make it."

Like I give a shit about the drunk driver. I tried not to roll my eyes.

"Damn," Is all I could say.

"Are you family too?" The nurse asked me.

I shook my head. "No. He's my roommate," I said as I pointed to the redhead, who was now crying in the arms of Mr. Broflovski.

"Did you know the boy?" She asked.

"Yeah," I responded. "We all grew up together."

"This is all so sad," She said, blowing her nose. "You all will be in my prayers."

_What the FUCK is that supposed to mean? Is that supposed to make me feel better or some shit?_

"Thanks," I said as I did the best to contain my sarcasm.

**LATER THAT EVENING**

"Well, I guess I need to be heading back to the school," I announced as I noticed it was close to11:30.

"I'm sorry that you had to see all this Eric," Kyle's mom said as she got up from her chair. Despite her swollen, puffy eyes, despite how exhausted and delirious I knew she was, despite all the shitty things I have said about her growing up- she walked over and actually hugged me!

"But I am very grateful that Kyle has a friend like you," She said sincerely. I was actually at a loss for words.

"Yes, thank you Eric." Mr. Broflovski said as he gave me a hug too. Kyle meekly walked up and stood beside his dad. I mouthed to him, _"Can we talk?" _to which he nodded. I said goodbye to his parents one more time as the redhead followed me outside.

Except for the crescent moon and the stars, it was almost pitch black outside and cold as fuck, but there was no snow. After Kyle saw his brother's body and was reunited with his parents, the doctor came back in to discuss different morgue options to take Ike's body to while the family plans the funeral. All this took a good hour at least. Then we finally drove back to the Broflovski's house to regroup. Luckily, Mrs. Broflovski had some leftovers she warmed up for us and we all ate dinner in silence. It was only until a few minutes ago I realized just how late it was, and I couldn't help but think about the Biostats class I had tomorrow morning at 9:30.

"Thanks for driving me here Cartman," The daywalker said, his words causing that magic fog in the cold night air.

I shrugged. "No biggie. So you're not coming back tonight, right?"

"No," The Jew replied. He shoved his hands in his pockets, cold and shivering. "I'm going to e-mail my professors tonight and tell them what happened. I need to be with parents right now to help them with the funeral." He explained in a monotone voice, probably out of exhaustion.

"Hey Cartman, will you do me a favor please and try to keep an eye on my car?" The daywalker asked.

"I mean, I'm the only person who has a key, but… Just make sure nobody messes with it, okay?" He asked.

I nodded. "No problem, Jew." I yawned and I knew that there was something else I wanted to ask the Jew.

Oh yeah!

"You'll tell me when you know when the funeral is, right?" 

"Of course," He said, he eyes still puffy from all the crying, just like his parents'.

"Kewl. Hey, can you promise me something, Jew?"

"Yes Cartman?"

"You're not going to do anything gheyy and like- I don't know- _cut_ yourself over this, are you?"

Kyle's eyebrows furrowed together, either out of shock, emotion, or both. And maybe it was just me, but it looked like his eyes watered a bit and his nose was turning pink again.

"_No_, Cartman!" He said in a soft voice. "Of course not."

"'Cause like, you know this is totally not like your fault, right Jew?"

"I know."

"'Kay," I said. "Kewl."

Then we hugged. It was a tight and I could hear Kyle's unsteady breathing as he whispered, "Thank you."

When we parted he quickly turned around so that I couldn't see his face and he walked back towards his house.

**SATURDAY**

The funeral was held 6 days after the incident. There were so many fucking people- they could barely fit into the synagogue.

Shit, I'm pretty sure the whole damn town of South Park was there and then some. Fucking _everybody_- Me, Kenny, Butters, Stan, Wendy, Bebe, Red, Lola, Token, Craig, Tweek, Jimmy, fuck even Clyde was there.

It was sad. And long. God, hopefully this is the last Jewish funeral I'll ever have to go to.

Kyle had asked me to be a pallbearer. I agreed, and so did Stan, Kenny, Butters, Craig, and Token. The ginger cried some at his brother's funeral, but not a lot. While I observed him it was almost as if he was _out_ of tears. Like he had become numb to it.

Later that night at the repast, the Jew did approach me.

"You going back tonight, Cartman?" He asked.

"Yep."

"Would you mind if I came with you?" He asked.

I shrugged. "Nahh. I was wondering when you'd come pick up your car Jew,"

The daywalker shifted, almost uncomfortably.

"Well yes, I want to pick up my car, but… I-I'm ready to go back to school," He said.

I just looked at him.

"You mean, like, actually CONTINUE this semester?" I asked.

"Well, yes."

I couldn't believe this shit.

"What the fuck, Jew? Didn't you e-mail all your professors and they were all cool with you taking time off?"

The ginger furrowed his eyebrows, giving that very familiar expression that he gives when he's standing up to me and determined to win an arguement.

"And I _took_ that time off, Cartman!"

"You took 6 fucking days!"

"Maybe that's all I NEED!" He snapped, stepping closer.

The Jew realized that some people were starting to look at us. He grabbed my wrist and pulled us into a corner in the living room that was more secluded than the hallway we were just standing in.

"Seriously Cartman, I think I'm ready to go back," He explained more quietly.

"But you don't _have_ to go back to school after something like this happens, Kahl!" I tried to reason.

"But I want to." He said calmly. "Besides, it will help me get my mind off of things."

I sighed in defeat. Truth is, Kyle is a stereotypical Jew and is as stubborn as the day is long and once his mind is mind up, it's a done deal.

"Fine Kahl," I said. "You can come back with me. Just get your shit ready fast."

**MONDAY**

I took a deep breath of the cold night air as I got out of my 5:00 class. Even at 6:15 is was already pretty dark and cold. To be honest, complex analysis is such a fucking annoying class and I don't see what that has to do with probability. Even at 6:15 I was ready to hit the sack.

But before I do that, I need to cook something for dinner. After I threw my backpack in my room I stepped into the kitchen.

Only to notice that the sick was fucking towering over with dishes.

"BUTTERS!"

I screamed.

The blonde immediately ran out of his room.

"Yes Eric?"

"Whose dishes are these?" I pointed to them.

"Well, let's see here…" He said as he got closer.

"Oh! Why, I believe they're Kyle's!"

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Positive!" He responded. "I always do my dishes right after I use them. And let's see…. Ah! About two of these bowls are Kenny's, because his dishes are dark blue, but you see how all these dishes are white with the orange rim? See, those are all Kyle's."

Only someone gheyy like Butter's would remember all that bullshit.

"Christ, he hasn't even been back 24 hours yet!"

"Well, go easy on him Eric. His brother DID just pass on, an' all….." The blonde said, rubbing his knuckles together.

Then we heard someone opening the door.

"Hey Jew!" I greeted him.

He just mumbled and headed towards his room.

I swiftly maneuvered in front of him.

"Would you mind- _please_- taking care of your dishes tonight?" I asked, maybe too politely.

"So that I can cook and have dinner."

The ginger may have looked at my eyes for half of a nano-second.

"Sure," He mumbled. "Lemme put my stuff away first."

I stepped out of his way as he unlocked his door, walked in, and shut it.

I stood there for a second, thinking about something.

….. Did I just smell _alcohol_ on his breath?


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey hey! Didn't think I would update this quickly, did you? Well, the last reviews were VERY touching, as well as I am going through some big changes in my life right now and I have a lot of anxiety going on so writing this story is very therapeutic for me.**

**As always, please review! Thank you all for your support! **

"Hey Kahl, you gonna hit up Stan and see if you, him, and Wendy can have a menage-a-tois tonight?"

"Fuck you, Cartman." My roommate retorted with a mouth full of cereal, spoon in his right-hand and texting with his left.

I laughed as I bit down on a donut. It was Friday, Febuaray the 14th and the two of us were up early and getting ready for work, as we always do on Friday. It was kinda funny, because this was usually the only time we would sit down and eat together…. Totally unintentional of course. But then it again it was Valentine's Day…. But fuck it. It's early in the morning. It's not anything faggish going on.

"Come now Kahl," I said with my mouthful. "You should open your mind a little bit. You gotta lose that V-card somehow,"

The Jew stopped texting and averted his eyes to me.

"What makes you think I'm still a virgin?" He asked.

I laughed. "It's quite obvious, Kahl."

"How so?"

"All your faggy ways, for one," I smiled.

He rolled his eyes and took another bite of his cereal. "Well I'm sure you'll have a very romantic Valentine's Day date with your right-hand tonight, Cartman." 

"Fuck you, Kahl!" I said as I dropped my donut on the table so that I could slam my two hands on the table.

"Quiet, Fatass! You'll wake up Butters and Kenny!" He snapped.

I cleared my throat, trying to calm myself.

"Now Kahl, you and I both know that I have banged plenty of chicks," I said.

The daywalker was in the middle of chewing and almost spit out the food as he started laughing. He covered his mouth to keep it down and then he drank some orange juice.

"Yeah Cartman, suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuure." He said with a huge eat-shit grin.

"GAHDAMMIT KAHL, YOU DIRTY-"

"I've gotta finish getting ready, Cartman." He interrupted me as he stood up and grabbed his dishes. He got up and put them in the sink. Walking towards his room, he turned to me and said, "I'll have all my dishes done when I come back from work tonight," He said as he shut the door.

**MONDAY**

After coming back from my Probability class with Dr. Priest, I figured it would be a good time to take out the trash since it was my week to do it. It was hard not to drag it because it was really heavy. Half-way on the way to the dumpsters, I stopped to give myself a break and I observed the giant bag. I could see quite a few beer bottles. Were these Kenny's or Kyle's? Probably both. It kinda totally sucks _if_ the Jew is drinking again, but I guess I can't be too pissed about it, since his brother did just die. Still, I can't help but wonder how long it will be before he causes another over-the-top dramatic shit-show while he's drunk.

When I got back, I found that the Jew and the faggy-blonde were talking to each other excitedly at the bar area.

"Hey Fatass!" The redhead greeted me cheerily.

"Hey Kike," I greeted him as I walked up to the kitchen sink to wash my hands.

"Hello Eric," Butters greeted, smiling. "Kyle's going to Canada this summer!" He announced happily.

I lifted my eyebrows, impressed. "What for, Jew?"

"Study abroad for my major," He explained.

"And it's not just Canada, it's Montreal!" He clarified.

"To speak your Faggy French?" I asked.

"That's not why I'm going there, Cartman." He said as his face dropped at my remark. "It'll be all internal business classes that I'll be taking up there. And it's a great place to study abroad. See, the economy in Quebec is doing really well right now. But being able to practice my French is an added bonus,"

"Gee, you're so lucky, Kyle!" The blonde gushed. "We never get any opportunities like that in my major. I guess there's no need for Early Childhood Education majors to study abroad…" He looked down, sadly.

I shrugged. "Well congrats, Jew. How are you paying for it?"

"I've got money saved up," the Jew explained. "Plus, there's a Global Scholarship that I'm going to apply for,"

"Ah, that's right," I said. "I forgot for a split second- you're Jewish! Of course you have a hidden stash."

The daywalker flicked me off.

"Well, I think it's going to be an incredible opportunity!" Butters piped in.

"Congratulations!" The blonde said as he hugged the Jew.

Butters. Such a fag.

"Butters-!" The redhead stammered as he awkwardly tried to hug the fag in return, but it was obvious by his body language that he was taken by surprise and he didn't really find it called for.

I watched the awkward hug and mused on the thought of this study abroad. Ya know, maybe this will actually be _good _for the Jew. Maybe once he's done, he'll gain some newfound confidence and not be so fucking emo all the time. That would be kinda nice for a change.

**WEDNESDAY**

Typically after I get out of my biostats class I just kill time before my probability class with Dr. Priest. I was so fucking tired and sleepy that I decided to get some coffee frappachino- mocha-latte-bullshit to keep me up, and as usual I turned on the volume on my phone walking into the building.

3 missed calls from Kenny…. WTF?

I called him back while I got in line at the local café on campus.

"What's up Poor Boy?"

"Hey Fatass, where are you?"

"In line at Jazzy's, what's going on?"

"Dude, it's Kyle."

My heart dropped.

"I'm in the waiting room at the school clinic," He explained. "He's being taken care of now. We were just chilling and bullshittin, and he got up to use the bathroom, and he just totally fainted in the main area," He explained.

"The fuck?" I asked

"I know," The blonde continued. "I'm thinking it's his diabetes or something."

"Fucking Jew!" I exclaimed as I walked out of the line and headed out of the café. "Has he not been taking his insulin?!"

"I'm sure he has," Kenny responded. "You know how responsible he is."

_Yeah, when he's sober,_ I thought.

"Okay well I'm on my way there," I said.

"'Kay. Bye."

"Bye."

When I finally got to the school clinic, I was huffing and puffing from all the running. I stepped into the waiting room and immediately saw the Poor Boy, who was wearing a grey hoodie.

"Have you seen the Kike?" I asked, still breathing hard.

He shook his head. "Nope. Been waiting for a while," He responded.

"The doctor says you can see your friend now," A nurse came in and said to Kenny.

He stood up and we both followed her down the narrow hallway. She knocked on his door and then let us in.

"Are you Kyle's friends?" An older, African-American woman asked us.

"Yeah," I said and Kenny mumbled "mm-hmm".

"I'm Dr. Brown, nice to meet you." She outstretched her hand to the both of us and we both shook her hand.

I thought it was funny that her last name was brown. Heheheheh.

I looked over at Kyle who was sitting up on the bed. He had a tray folding out in front of him and was eating juice and crackers. His facial expression was apathetic.

"So we just ran some tests," The doctor explained. "As you may or may not already know, Kyle has had Diabetes Type One since he was very young," She explained.

"But after the tests, it's starting to look like his kidneys are building up a resistance to his insulin,"

The redhead rolled his eyes. I could tell he was _not _having this.

"As I explained to Kyle," Dr. Brown went on. "We'll either have to up the amount of insulin that he's taking, or we'll have to try other supplementary medications," She said.

"Yaaaaaaaaaay!" Kyle said drearily.

The doctor laughed. "It's really not that bad, Kyle. We'll just have to find out what will work through trial-and-error," She said in a nonchalant tone, as if it was nothing.

"And I _totally_ have time for that," He retorted sarcastically.

For whatever reason, I started feeling bad for the doctor. That or I was really getting sick of the Jew's negative, shitty attitude. Probably the latter.

"Shut yer fucking Jew-mouth!" I snapped. "Can't you see she's just doing her goddamn job?!"

"Dude!" Kenny exclaimed. The doctor's eyes widen.

"…..Sorry," I mumbled.

"… It's quite alright," Dr. Brown said. "So Kyle, take it easy for the rest of the day, and hopefully I can see you the beginning of next week, alright?"

"Alright," He begrudgingly said.

Kenny got on one side of him while I got on the other as we got ready to help him stand up. He took Kenny's side, slowly stood up, and then insisted that he could walk fine now.

After we got to the front, we waited by the "freebies" while the Jew made his next appointment. Kenny grabbed a paper bag and stuffed it with condoms.

Finally, the redhead turned around to both of us and said he was ready to go.

**FRIDAY NIGHT**

While I was watching Inception for the umpteenth million time, it was hard to block out Kenny and Kyle coming back from Christ-knows-where, being drunk, loud and stupid. I paused the movie and cracked open my door to watch the debauchery.

"Duuuuude, that wasss SO funny when that chick turned you down!" The redhead giggled as he got out his keys to go to his room.

"Dude she was just prude as fuck," The blonde retorted.

"Whatever!" Kyle said as he went into his room. He quickly returned to the main area with a huge bottle of tequila. "You're just losing your game, Kenny!" He laughed.

The Poor Boy and I watched the redhead carried the large tequila bottle into the kitchen and proceeded to get two shot glasses out of the cabinet.

"Duuuuude," Kenny said. "You're gonna KEEP drinking? Really?!"

"Yep," The Jew responded seriously. "I'm doing a shot, and YOU'RE doing one with me."

"But we already had several lemon drops at Eleven!" The blonde retorted. "And didn't you have at LEAST 3 long island ice teas?"

The redhead shrugged, as he poured out two tall shots.

"Doesssn't matter, bra. You can handle it."

The White-trash roommate shook his head. "Nahh, Kyle. I'm done for the night."

Kyle gave Kenny a death-stare, as if he was really pissed. Then, without saying a word, he grabbed the shot glass closer to him and swiftly did a shot.

"Fine then," He said as he slammed the empty shot glass back down. "I'll drink yours," He said as he tossed the second one back.

"Christ, dude!" Despite his drunken stupor, the blonde was starting to show real concern on his face.

"You've had enough, dude. Just go to bed."

I knew as soon as Kenny said that that Kyle would go off on him.

And sure enough, he did.

"Ya know what, Kenny?" He said as he poured another shot and tossed the third shot back. "Fuck YOU!" He said, as he threw both glasses on the ground and walked out of the kitchen as they shattered.

"The FUCK, Kyle?" Kenny said, now really scared. Then his face blanched as the redhead started to head to the door.

"Stop it, Jew!" I yelled as I finally decided to make my appearance more noticeable.

"Where are you going?!" Kenny asked frantically.

"I'm going back to Eleven," He announced. "Because SOMEONE wanted to be a fucking fag and leave early!" He said while giving an ugly look to Kenny.

Kenny made the mistake of trying to reason with him.

"But you're drunk!"

"FUCK YOU!" Was all the redhead said as he slammed the door.

"Christ… He's actually going to drive?" Kenny asked.

"We gotta stop that asshole!" I said as the two of us attempted to run after him. When we ran outside we both heard the sound of the ignition being started and it was coming from the far right. We saw him in his car over to the right as he turned his headlights on.

"KYLE!" Kenny yelled. We both hurried and over and tried to stop him, but by the time we made it to his parking spot he had already pulled out.

I sighed and watched the cold winter air come out of my mouth, feeling like I've failed. Then I mumbled to myself;

"Fuck you, Kahl. Fuck. You."


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi everyone! Welcome to Chapter 10 of the Caretaker. Again, thanks so much for all the amazing reviews. I totally love writing this story and you all catch a lot of insightful aspects of this story too reading it. Some of you have already caught on that this story is really about addiction. On one hand it's about the person suffering from it (Kyle), but it is also about the loved-ones who suffer as a result too (Cartman). This chapter focuses more on that dynamic and how, as the addiction gets worse, Cartman can't help but feel that he's inevitably sinking with the ship and he has to find a way to cope and save himself as well.**

**Okay enough already. Please enjoy and review!**

I looked around me, realizing I was in a tall corn field while the sun was setting. The sun seemed immense as it was setting and it's colors seemed to be burning against the field. It all seemed to be various shades of orange; almost too bright. It was kinda kick-ass, though.

Wait, why am I here? Well, whatever the fuck the reason was, it _was _pretty- not to sound gheyy or anything. It was also really quiet- almost eerily quiet, except for the wind. I stood still, not really looking at anything in particular and listened to the sound of the wind blowing through the field. It was so peaceful, almost musical. After the wind quieted down, I could hear something in the distance. Laughing? No, more like crying. It was coming from straight ahead. I took a few steps forward.

The crying sounds familiar.

Kyle?

I took a few more steps forward, listening attentively.

It was _definitely _Kyle.

I ran forward and when I knew I was there, I looked down and saw him laying on a blanket on his side, his back facing me. It looked like he was having a pick-nick or some shit; I saw a giant icebox open with the lid propped up against it. I peeked in. There was a giant bottle of tequila in there, open. Around the icebox and the Jew were a shit-ton of beer bottles. I saw an empty cardboard Dos Equis box as well as the 12 empty bottles scattered around his feet. I saw a few empty Jack Daniels and a couple finished Arrogant Bastards. Surprisingly I knew that the Jew hadn't passed out, since I could see his back shaking with his cries.

"Kahl?" I asked as I grabbed his shoulder and turned him over.

I jumped immediately as I screamed at the image of what I _thought _was the Jew.

His face and body were _covered _in deep gashes. He had a long horizontal cut in the corners of his mouth (like the Joker), he had bleeding X's on each cheek, multiple cuts on his neck, as well as deep gashes on his forhead that went up into his hairline. He was clutching close to him a large butcher knife, stained with blood. Both of his arms were covered in cuts, but it wasn't just his forearms. It was the inside of his arms, his wrists, his upper arms; almost every fucking inch was mutilated. He didn't have his usual orange jacket on; his was just wearing his white t-shirt along with his green pants.

His t-shirt was covered in blood as I could see cuts underneath his shirt bleeding through.

"Jesus _fucking_ Christ!" I exclaimed, still in horror.

"C-Cartman….?" The daywalker hoarsely asked, his cheeks stained with tears and blood.

"What did you fucking do, Kahl?!" I didn't know what else to ask.

"Cartman…." I could see fresh tears swelling up in his eyes as he said:

"I'm dying-!"

My phone rang.

I woke up and clumsily grabbed my phone from my nightstand.

I did not recognize the number at all. I did, however, see that it was 5:45 in the morning.

"Hello?" I answered.

Then an automatic voice answered me. "Hello, this is a collect call from South Park County Jail. Will you except the call from:"

And I could hear the Jew say "Kyle."

My heart dropped and honestly I was a bit surprised that the kike's drinking got this far. I _really _wanted to say no. I wanted the Kike to know that I do not give a shit about what he's gotten himself into and that it is also not my problem that he's fucked up this bad.

But, against my better judgment, I answered, "Yes."

The automatic voice responded with, "One moment please."

Then I heard the Jew.

"Cartman?"

"WAY TO GO, ASSHOLE!" I yelled.

"Look," He said, trying to be calm. "I know that you're mad, and I know it's my fault-"

"Just please tell me you didn't fucking kill someone, Jew."

He sighed. "No. I didn't. I was just caught driving badly... And, well… I guess I was swerving a bit. I was really, really drunk."

I laughed sarcastically. "Yeah, no SHIT!"

"Look Cartman, I really need you to do me a HUGE favor."

"Here we go." I said, pissed off.

"Just please- PLEASE- post my bond. I have the number right here for a bond company. I've already talked to them and told them that I would be sending someone there for me soon."

"Post a bond…. Doesn't that mean, 'pay money', Kahl?"

There was a short pause.

"Yes."

I sighed. "And how fucking much are we talking about here?"

Another short pause.

"Well, it's $150. But I pro-"

"What the FUCK, Kahl?!" I cut him off, infuriated.

"Please, Cartman. Just do this one thing for me and I PROMISE I will pay you back as SOON as I get-"

"$150?! What the FUCK?"

I yelled again into the receiver. I heard a sigh on the other end.

"Like I said, I can pay you back as soon as tomorrow!"

"Like this is REALLY what I wanted to do on my Friday, Kahl!" I yelled, still in shock at the scenario.

"Why should I TRUST a JEW to pay me back money?" I continued to rant. "And why can't you filthy little Jews just stay out of trouble?! I TOLD you that you were drinking too much last night, but did your drunk, Jew-ass listen? NO!"

"And you were right, Cartman. And I'm really sorry," Kyle said. He paused. "But this was just one mistake. I promise I'll be more careful in the future with my drinking."

After the ginger didn't hear anything from me, he continued to plead pathetically :

"Please, Cartman. You're all I have right now. My parents would kill me and never talk to me again if I ask them to bail me out. Please…."

I sighed. "If Butters agrees to split it with me on the bail, then I GUESS I can try and get over there, when I can….." I mumbled. Of course, this basically meant that I was going to do it, as it's just as easy to trick Butters into doing anything as it is to steal candy from a baby.

"Thank you, Cartman." I heard Kyle say. I swear, he sounded cold-sober, but I know that wasn't the case several hours ago.

"This really means a lot to me."

**AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER**

"Well, I'm sure glad we could help the poor feller out! Aren't you Eric?"

"Not really." I answered in monotone voice while navigating the road.

"What? B-but Kyle- he's our roommate! I would just feel awful if he had to stay in jail longer than a day!" The blonde said.

I shrugged. All I knew was that I would be able to get back in time to get ready for work and that then it was about to Butters to pick up the drunk once his bond finally posted later today. I was grateful that Butters went in on the bail with me- he paid $75 and I paid $75. And I except every Goddamn cent back from the Jew tomorrow.

"I'm just sick of his shit, Butters." I said. "And honestly I wish he would fucking move out."

To that the fag sat there and said nothing. The rest of the ride home was in silence.

**MONDAY**

I just came back from probability and I had a couple of hours to kill before I went to my god-awful complex analysis class. I threw my backpack on the floor as soon as I shut the door behind me.

I wish I could just skip that shitty class altogether and just go to bed early.

But I noticed how my dishes were piling up in the sink. Guess I should do them now while I'm thinking about it. I walked over to the cabinet underneath the sink and opened it up to put on the yellow rubber gloves. The soap is really harsh on my skin so it's better if I take these precautions.

The weekend came and went. After Butters and I posted the Jew's bail, I threw myself into work that day. And while I normally don't work on Sundays, I volunteered to fill in for a co-worker, really just so I wouldn't be stuck at the apartment.

When I came back from work Saturday night, I walked into my room and found a fifty dollar bill, a twenty dollar bill, and a five dollar bill all laying on the floor. I was surprised just how fast the Jew was at reimbursing me. Jews usually never pay their debts.

But this was good because I really, _really _did NOT want to see him. The thought of the Jew pissed me off to no end and I am so sick of his mother fucking bullshit that I am afraid that I might just bash his face in the next time I see him.

Which is exactly what he deserves, but I don't want to take any chances with getting into trouble with the school.

I was scrubbing one of my last glasses when the door opened.

It was Kenny…. With a backpack?!

"Holy Jesus fucking Christ on a pogo stick," I said.

"You mean, you _actually_ went to class, Kinneh?!"

"Fuck off, Cartman." He said nonchalantly. "I make good grades too," He protested.

"Yeah okay, because someone who shows up to class half the time usually makes good grades," I said, drying my last glass.

"It's none of your business anyways," He said as he sat in a stool at the bar, across from me.

"So….." He breathed, waiting for me to look at him.

"Yes?" I said, right after putting away my gloves.

"Have you talked to Kyle yet?"

"Fuck no," I snapped as I tore my eyes from his, preoccupied with putting my dishes away.

"He told me he gave you and Butters back the money already," He said.

"Yes he did," I closed my cabinet of dishes. "And now there is nothing more to discuss."

"You know, just because he got arrested doesn't maker him a fucking scambag, Cartman!" My white trash roommate yelled.

"I never said he was a 'scumbag'," I calmly explained. "But he is a hot-mess. And to be completely honest Kinneh, I wish he would move out."

Kenny's eyes pleaded. "You don't _really_ mean that,"

"Yes, I do." I locked eyes with him to make sure he knew that I wasn't fucking around.

We heard a bedroom door opening as Butters came out with a bowl and spoon. I knew that the faggot just ate his chocolate pudding, which he always eats every afternoon for a snack.

"Afternoon, fellas!" He greeted as he walked over to the sink to put his dishes in and run some water. I stepped out of his way.

"Butters," The poor boy addressed him.

"Yes Kenny?"

"Do you want Kyle to move out?"

The naïve blonde's eyes turned from pleasant to panic, and they darted from Kenny, to me, and back to Kenny.

"W-why, no! Not at all! I like Kyle. H-h-he's my friend," After he turned the faucet off, the fag added: "He's _always_ been my friend."

"See fatass?" The trashy blonde said. "It's two to one. You lose- Kyle's staying."

I felt my face getting red as I felt defeated. "Well if the kike is staying, he's gonna do something different! I'm SICK of all his emo, dramatic, over-the-top drunken BULLSHIT!"

Butters rubbed his knuckles against each other. "W-well, maybe Kyle just needs to seek some professional help,"

Kenny nodded.

"Yeah, maybe he just has no idea that he's a bit stressed, ya know? Maybe he just needs to be made aware that he _may_ have some personal things he needs to work out."

I stood there and looked at the both of them and the two of them looked at me, optimistic and self-assured, as if they just discovered the solution to ALL of the Jew's problems. Maybe it's because they're blonde, or maybe it's because they're stupid, or maybe it's because they really don't know Kyle at _all,_ but I instantly knew that they had no idea what they were dealing with.

I was at a loss of words when I heard the front door open.

It was him.

No one said anything as there seemed to be a staring contest between me, Butters, Kenny and Kyle.

"What the fuck, guys?" The redhead asked. "Did I just walk in on something?"

"Kahl, your drinking stops TONIGHT." I said as I approached him. "Gimme your keys." 

"What, FUCK no!" He replied as he put his hand behind his back. "Look, I learned my lesson. I will never, EVER drink and then drive again!"

"Then you should at least stop drinking the hard shit," I said. "And besides, I believe Kinneh wants to say something."

The redhead's face blanched as he looked at Kenny, half-way ignoring me now. Kenny stumbled, having no idea what he was "supposed" to say.

Bingo.

With the Jew distracted, I easily jumped behind him, forcefully grabbed his keys, and made a run for it to his room.

"No! Cartman! DON'T!"

He tried to run in after me, but luckily I slammed the door in his face and locked it.

"LEMME IN!" He screamed. "GIMME MY FUCKING KEYS BACK!"

The Jew isn't that strong, so even if he _could_ break open the door, I knew that I could dispose of all his hard liquor by then.

So that's what I did.

During his frantic screaming and pleading, I stood on the daywalker's chair, removed the multiple bottles of tequila, wine bottles, vodka, rum, and whiskey that he was proudly displayed on his top bookshelf.

I took each bottle, carried them all into his bathroom, and poured two at a time into his toilet.

When I finally opened the bedroom door, the Jew's eyes were filled with fury. He looked at me with homicidal rage.

"Don't worry Kahl," I said reassuringly. "It's just all the hard stuff that's gone. You still have your beer."

As I got my keys out to unlock my room, I could see the Jew out of the corner of my eye step into his bathroom.

I guess the scene of all the empty bottles was enough to make him cry at the top of his lungs…. Again.

I shut the door behind me and grabbed the remote to turn on the TV.

For once, I absolutely did not give a flying fuck that the Jew was upset.

Honestly, this is the way it _should _be.


End file.
